


Specialized Touches

by WondrousWendy



Series: Wendy's DKcember Pieces [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Argent Tournament (Warcraft), Confessional Sex, Cunnilingus, DKCember2020, Death Knight Edginess, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Headcanons Aplenty, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, References to Blood DK Vampirism, Vaginal Fingering, World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WondrousWendy/pseuds/WondrousWendy
Summary: Death Knights can never escape their hunger, no matter how hard they may deny its sway over them.
Relationships: Female Night Elf | Elves/Male Human(s) (Warcraft), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Wendy's DKcember Pieces [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038602
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Specialized Touches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zath/gifts).



> So, this is my fill for the day 02/20 prompt of DKcember2020. The prompt for day 02 is "specialization" and day 20 is "hunger/thirst." Well, I kinda addressed what specs they are but I also decided to create a story to shed light on how each of these characters embody those characteristics. This story includes some headcanons my friend Zath and I share about the "hunger" death knights face that extends beyond simply just needing to kill to fuel their runeblade(s). 
> 
> This story features a few of Zath's OCs: Thaeus Fenhaven (frost death knight), Ketherros Bloodmourn (blood death knight), and an implicit reference to her dark ranger Elayna Nightsworn. My OCs are Alphonse Blightbringer (unholy death knight), Lara Pentagrast (blood death knight), Ziael Duskwind (a druid), and an implied reference to Finn Meadowsong (a monk). 
> 
> This piece features sexual content between a druid and a death knight. If sexual content featuring a death knight isn't your thing, please hit the back button!

“You know, I sometimes wonder, Thaeus, does your pet druid understand the hunger we all feel?” Ketherros’s voice cuts through the silence of the Argent Tournament’s armory like a knife. “Does she know exactly what you are, what you’ve done?”

Thaeus slowly looks up from his runeblade and the whetstone in his hand. His cool gaze meets Ketherros, one of two blood elves assigned to Duchess Lara Pentagrast’s unit alongside him. They sit across from one another on two separate benches, with Ketherros clearly having abandoned any interest in wiping the blood off of his chest armor. Alphonse, the other blood elf death knight, leans against the stone wall of the dungeon beneath the grounds reading a letter—either something from his beloved or orders for their troupe from their commander. 

“Don’t be an ass, Keth. Leave him alone.” 

“No. I think Knight Fenhaven here should think deeply about what he’s doing.” Keth smirks. “Tell me, does she know you’re leeching warmth from her every single moment you’re with her?” Ketherros laughs with malice, his lips pulled back into a sneer. “Tell me, does she enjoy the chill of death all around her, inside her? Something must be deeply wrong with her if she’s willing to sleep with a death knight.” 

Thaeus lunges on him within a blink of an eye. He pushes Ketherros back, slamming him into the stone wall hard enough any living being would have been concussed, if not worse. He has Keth pinned with his arm, and his bright blue eyes burn with contempt. 

Moments pass as Thaeus says nothing, still holding him back with his arm and one of his runeblades to Keth’s stomach, ready to gut him at a moment’s notice.

“Nothing to say, hm? Can’t even defend her. She must enjoy how broken you are. Tell me, does she hope to ‘save you’? Maybe you’re hoping she does. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be saved by some naive little shifter who should know—”

Thaeus slams him once more against the wall, and this time Keth seems dazed afterwards. Keth grins, almost enjoying the violent rise he’s gotten out of Thaeus. 

“I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to be normal again like the rest of them. Instead here you are. I can hear your runeblade cry out for even my warm blood.” 

That comment disarms Thaeus momentarily. He blinks, furrows his brows, and finds himself considering letting his runeblade have a taste after all of Keth's warm blood... 

“Keth! Come on. Leave Thaeus be and start acting like a professional. The Argent Crusaders are our allies, and even I’m offended by the way you speak of Lady Duskwind. She is friends with many of the Crusaders. Remember that when you talk ill of her.” 

Now Thaeus draws back, suddenly sobered by Alphonse’s words which alleviates the drums of war banging in his head. He wonders what Ziael would think, seeing him like this. It’s bad enough she hasn’t realized what his touch does to her—thankfully she’s a very warm blooded woman, likely due in part to being a druid. 

Keth takes this moment of clarity to push Thaeus back with significant force, throwing him back into the bench in the armory. 

“Give it a rest,” Keth says, licking his lips. He runs a hand through his ashen white hair casually and snorts as he towers over Thaeus. Then, he looks over to Alphonse with mockery dripping in his voice. “You aren’t a paladin of the Light anymore. You can give the goodie-two-shoes act a rest. You aren’t impressing anyone with the holier-than-thou attitude.” 

“We are supposed to be working together and you repeatedly try to undermine everything we’ve worked for and continue to work towards.” 

Keth scoffs. He shoves Alphonse back and shakes his head. He points over to Thaeus, who’s still kneeling, half-crouched and ready to retaliate, with frigid winds already beginning to gather around him. The human’s rune blades glow eerily blue, illuminating the dim dungeon beneath the tournament grounds.

“Brother, remember who we are actually fighting against...”

“Why should I have any sympathy for him? He would do anything to be nothing like us, to become one of _them_. Why else would he be pining for that druid?” 

“I know there is bitterness in your heart over F—”

“Don’t fucking say his name!” Keth moved back into Alphonse’s space, and he bears his fangs, hissing as he speaks. “You don’t get to talk about how I feel.” 

“It’s plain to see you’re jealous, Keth, but taking it out on the boy isn’t going to do you any good.” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Keth snarls. “You still have your beloved. She’s like _us_. Dead once. Risen to serve. As fucked up as we are. She understands the hunger we feel. The living know nothing about what we endure. A crazed handful of them might think they can tolerate us, might trick themselves into seeing us as no different, but it means nothing if the majority see us as monsters. The majority will sway the few in the end. I’m nothing more than a blood-drinker. You Alphonse poison any living creature you touch with your pestilence. And our dear Knight Fenhaven will sap the warmth from his little druid’s veins until she’s nothing more than a lifeless, frail husk.” Keth starts to walk away, grabbing his chest piece off of the ground and slinging his large runeblade over his shoulder. “Think about that the next time you’re with her,” he says over his shoulder. “We’re all monsters here, and the sooner you come to that realization, the better a soldier you’ll become.” 

Thaeus watches him leave, the blustery, frigid draft gone from the dungeon. He hears Alphonse speak to him, muttering apologies and trying his best to be a gentleman, but Thaeus doesn’t really listen. All he can think about in his mind is Ziael Duskwind, the kind hearted druid who reached out to him, though he deserved none of it. He can see her in his mind’s eye, taller than him, beautiful, poised, enjoying the little things in their difficult lives. She’s always smiling at him, always happy to see him, never afraid, like she should be. 

As he leaves the armory with Alphonse, Ketherros’s bitter words have wormed their way into his mind, filling him with silent grief. 

Alphonse can place his ungloved hand upon his head to ruffle his dark hair without fear of sickening him with terrible diseases. Keth was right; he can only do that with the undead. 

So, when Thaeus sees Ziael sitting at one wooden table with her other friends among the healers, he feels paradoxically drawn to her and sickened by his desire for her. He hungers for her in ways no one living being will ever be able to understand, likely including her, too. 

Across the open mess area, Ziael lifts her head, as if sensing eyes on her—his eyes. She blinks at him, then with a hint of color brightening her pale blue cheeks, she glances away briefly, and appears to excuse herself from them. 

With a sparkle of color and magic, Ziael transforms into a doe and prances over to where he stands underneath a stone arch. Thaeus gives her a small head pat and can’t help stroking behind her little ears, at least until she transforms back into an elf woman before him. 

Ziael smiles down at him. “I didn’t think you would be back this soon from patrol with the others. Did you have a safe time?” 

Thaeus finds himself thankful for his stoic features. Deep down, he’s still incredibly angry and filled with grief over what Ketherros said. None of it boils to the surface to show as an expression. 

“We did,” he says tersely, hoping she’ll leave it at that. 

“Oh, well that’s good news. I’m happy you all made it back saf—”

Thaeus cuts her off by pulling her into a nearby empty church tent, away from prying eyes and out of the gusting cold, to kiss her. Normally, he’s happy to listen to her, to become lost in her smiles and pleasing voice, but his body yearns for her.

Ziael seems more than happy to oblige. She melts into him, so willing and so eager, her hands already running along the contours of his plate armor. Outside, Thaeus hears soldiers bustling about, with some of the crusaders talking about the evening’s prayer service in this very chapel tent led by Confessor Paletress. 

Thaeus doesn’t let her hands wander for long. He tears himself away from the kiss and takes her hand once more. He guides her into the small makeshift confession booth in the corner of the tent, where somehow they’ll have to make do. He pushes her back up against the wall of the booth, and he tears off one of his gauntlets. Then, he reaches down to start hiking up one of her favorite kilts, this one being made of dyed indigo and gold hyde. 

Ziael doesn’t stop him, like she properly should. She doesn’t resist, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t beg him to stop as he slides his hands, one bare and one still covered, up the slope of her thighs. She’s already trembling, already so eager as she spreads her legs as best as she can to accommodate him. Thaeus should gawk at the mere thought of touching a living woman this way, but instead, all he wants to do is run his fingers along the warmest part of her body. 

Ziael fruitlessly tries to muffle her gasps and mewls with a hand over her mouth, as Thaeus starts to touch her intimately. His cool fingers are diligent beneath her kilt, with his thumb drawing circles around her clit. One finger, then two slips inside of her. She’s already so wet, so slick with need, and Thaeus can’t help but draw his drenched fingers up to his lips to taste her. Pleased but not nearly satisfied, he starts to fuck her with his fingers, watching her carefully as she throws her head back and rides out the overwhelming sensations. Her breasts bounce within the confines of her tunic, and her long, delicious neck arches, practically begging him to kiss her there. 

Ziael, typically so talkative amongst her friends and colleagues, is so speechless when they’re like this. She doesn’t talk, doesn’t beg, instead breathily whimpering his name or moaning into the confines of the booth. He loves the sight of her coming apart, falling to pieces in front of him. 

Despite the chill, Ziael has built up a sweat. Thaeus hasn’t. His body still remains so cold, but the runes embedded in his skin draw out the heat from her. The need cries out inside of him, lusting for her as much as it lusts for the warmth her body radiates. Chasing heat in the same breath as a kiss. 

Thaeus drops to his knees and has Ziael hold up her kilt on her own. Then, he spreads her legs wider, propping one on the confession booth’s seat, and like a madman, he presses his mouth to her folds, needing that warmth directly on his tongue and lips. He buries his face between her legs, needing to lap up everything she gives. He wishes they had a proper bed, where he could fold her in half, with her ankles up by her ears, and he could see every part of her, letting no inch of her be unexplored. He may not be a living man, but he’ll eat her out better than any living one ever could. 

“Oh Elune, Thaeus...” 

Ziael digs a shaking hand into his hair and holds him still as she rocks against his face, seeking out delicious friction. She starts to curl in on herself as her climax builds. Undeterred, Thaeus starts to suck harder, fuck her faster with his fingers. The muscles in her abdomen grow taut, and then she’s crying out into the booth, gushing around his face. 

Ziael draws Thaeus’s head back, letting him get a good look at her. She’s slouched against the booth’s wall, her thighs trembling, her kilt disheveled. Her long teal hair has fallen into her warm, flushed face, but there’s an inkling of a pleased smile. 

Thaeus stares up at her reverently, and in these moments with her, he truly does feel alive, subsisting off of her warmth, her scorching heat. Ketherros was wrong; he hasn’t hurt her. Quite the opposite. As he runs his cool palms along the inside of her thighs, she gasps, and her knees buckle as she enjoys another smaller climax. 

Thaeus isn’t naive. He knows there are differences between them. Yet, there are differences among the death knights themselves. He is nothing like Ketherros, even Alphonse. They may be brothers in arms, but it is true, they know nothing of what this is like.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! If you enjoy this work, please leave a comment and let me know what you think! 
> 
> You can find me on twitter [@W0ndrousWendy](https://twitter.com/W0ndrousWendy)


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